Period
by shadysp
Summary: Wendy starts her period, and an unlikely person helps her. Candy friendship. One shot. They're twelve or so. Written at two in the morning. Some language, and puberty at its worst. That's all.


Wendy sat in the middle of the sixth grade hallway, hugging her knees and sobbing silently. It was the worst-case scenario; her underwear were soaked through with sticky blood, and it had leaked through to her white tights. Her ass was covered in red. As she ran out of her classroom a few moments ago, she heard everybody laughing at her, taunting her.

_They'll never forget,_ she thought, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her mascara probably was making her look like a raccoon by now. _God, they'll never let it go! I'm always going to be that girl who got her period during science class!_

Wendy suddenly heard footsteps, and she froze, praying the person wouldn't stop and talk to her. She quieted her sobbing, willing them to just walk away. They paused for a moment, but then left. She recognized the sound of tennis shoes dragging against the ground. The person was dragging their feet. Who did Wendy know who dragged their feet?

She sat for maybe three more minutes. Then the shuffling returned. Wendy didn't lift her head when she heard a locker nearby being opened. She didn't know if she could make eye contact and face any more ridicule.

The locker slammed shut, there was some more shuffling, and then she felt her hat being lifted off her head. She finally looked up, rasping, "Hey, give me that!"

Her eyes quickly registered the form of Eric Cartman, staring down at her. She winced and hugged her knees tightly, sniffling weakly. _I must look like absolute shit. He's probably disgusted. But who cares? He's disgusting himself. And it's not like I need to impress him._

Wendy blinked in surprise when he gently sat her beret back on her head and crouched beside her, holding out his hands. In his large palms were a pair of gym shorts, a half-empty baby wipes container, and a tampon.

The black-haired-girl's eyes widened. "Wha-"

"Take them, ho."

"What-"

"The gym shorts are mine, but I won't be needing them because today is Thursday and I'm skipping school tomorrow. The wet wipes are also mine. I always keep them in my locker for when I need to shit. The tampon is from the girl's bathroom here. I just now went in and bought it from one of those dispenser things. You owe me twenty five cents."

"You're giving me these? Just to be nice?" Wendy cautiously took them. She eyed the tampon, so non-intimidating in its bright and colorful wrapper. "Why?"

"I dunno. I feel like helping someone in need. But you owe me now."

"I don't know how to use this," Wendy commented glumly, turning the tampon in her hands.

"What, you think I do? All I know is that you stick it up your vajayjay and a little string comes out so it doesn't get lost up there. So don't ask me."

"I wasn't," Wendy snapped.

"Jeez, I know you're PMSing, but calm down. I'm just trying to help. You should be thankful."

Wendy huffed. "Thank you, Cartman."

He smiled smugly and stood again.

"I don't have underwear, though," Wendy frowned.

"Go commando."

"Do you realize how unsanitary that is?"

"Ah, Jesus Christ, if you're gonna start bitching, I'm leaving. Goodbye, ho, and good luck. You're welcome, by the way."

Wendy frowned and watched him shuffle off, thinking, _That damn fatass._

She stood, cautiously looking around for other people, and ran off to the girl's bathroom. Once there, she got in a stall and pulled out her phone. After five minutes of researching, five more of cleaning herself up, and five more trying to figure out how to use the tampon, she had finished. She flushed the toilet, willing it not to get clogged. Thankfully, it didn't. Then she disdainfully sniffed Cartman's gym shorts. They smelled of fabric softener. His mom had to have washed them recently. Thankful, Wendy pulled them on and tightened them until they fit around her slim waist. Then she gathered her soiled pants and underwear and headed out of the stall.

She glanced in the mirror as she left. Thank God, her white shirt went with the forest green of the boxers. She nodded at her reflection, adjusting her hat, and then exited the restroom. She stuffed her clothes into her locker and then headed back to class, fretting over the teasing she was sure to face.

Wendy looked into a classroom with its door propped open, and saw Cartman looking right back at her, grinning deviously. Stan sat beside him, looking like he was sketching something, and beside him Kyle was copying notes diligently. Wendy could see that Kenny was reading a porno magazine disguised as a text book and made a face.

She nodded at Cartman, who smirked back and flipped her off. She returned the gesture, and then walked away, though she wasn't mad. She was grateful. Cartman had just saved her social life.

When she returned to class, some kids jeered, but she ignored them and took a seat. Bebe leaned over Red and asked in a whisper, "Are you okay, Wendy?"

"I'm fine," Wendy gave her a bright smile. "Thanks."

"Where'd you get the shorts? They look big enough to belong to the fatass."

_That's because they do belong to him, _Wendy thought, drifting off into a daydream that included her and Cartman in a meadow. She internally groaned. _Oh my God, I hope I'm not crushing on him again. That'd be terrible... _


End file.
